Don't Take It Personally

From halfway down the block, I saw her coming toward me—the woman I'll call the Bitch. We'd been introduced three times by various people in the neighborhood, yet whenever our paths crossed, she refused to acknowledge me. I'd wave and say, "Good morning." She'd stare at a spot 3 inches in front of her nose and blow by me as if I were made of thin air.

I shouldn't let it bug me, I know, but each and every time, her snubs make me feel awful. I don't expect her to stop and shoot the breeze, but I'd appreciate a polite smile. After all, even chimps bare their teeth in greeting when they swing past each other on vines. It's common freakin' courtesy!

"Why do you care?" my husband asked, when I vented to him about the incident a few days later.

"It feels so personal," I explained. "Like she's contemptuous of me or something." Indeed, every time she rendered me invisible, I thought, What's wrong with me? Do I smell? I asked my husband, "What have I ever done to her?"

Steve didn't answer; he was staring at his computer. So I tried expressing myself again, only louder. "It feels personal."

"I heard you the first time," he said.

Well! Naturally, I felt slighted by his silence. After all, I happily listened to all of his complaints about work and life. The least he could do was grunt in reply. I took it personally that he didn't.

Not a great response for the health of my relationship, as I learned. "Take everything personally in your marriage and you're headed straight for divorce," says Jane Greer, Ph.D., a couples therapist and author of What About Me? Stop Selfishness From Ruining Your Relationship. "You have to give your partner the leeway to be in the occasional bad mood. If you expect him to cater to your feelings 24/7, you're being disrespectful and selfish."

Instead of taking Greer's remark personally (I was tempted, believe me), I called Judith Orloff, M.D., author of Emotional Freedom. "Your reactions are a sign of insecurity," she told me. "You must worry a great deal about what other people think of you."

It's true that the Bitch (and Steve) were only the tip of the iceberg. I also felt hurt when my teenage daughters were snippy with me. Then there was the editor whose revision memos had taken on a distinctly nasty tone. Hell, I even took it personally when some kid kicked the back of my seat at the movies. Maybe I had a persecution complex.

Yet in the modern world, fighting back isn't always possible. "Instead," Kreamer says, "we tend to respond emotionally, stress hormones rush in, and we end up stewing in our angst."

So was there anything a thin-skinned person like me could do to stop all these incidents from getting to her? "You can't control people's thoughts and actions, but you can control your own reactions," Dr. Orloff says. The trick is to learn to consciously separate your emotional response (I really do suck!) from what's happening. "Usually, the other person's behavior has nothing to do with you," Dr. Orloff says. "So when you feel victimized, take a breath, then distance yourself from the situation. Go for a walk around the block. That way, you can calm down and get centered."

Another way to gain perspective is to call a friend, "someone who will be supportive and remind you that you have a life outside the upsetting event," Kreamer says. Distracting yourself makes it easier to disengage emotionally. The goal is to shift your awareness so you can think more clearly and objectively and see the story you're spinning in your head.

Like the story I was spinning about Steve (He's ignoring me!)? "Your husband would do you a service by saying, 'It's not you. I had a crappy day,'" Greer says. In fact, most couples could benefit from using these kinds of preemptive "It's not you" apologies. (Try, say, "Honey, I'm doing a juice fast—I'll be snappish for the next week.") "Giving each other a simple heads-up when you're in a mood can go a long way to warding off reactive hurt feelings," Greer adds.

But what of my need to vent about the Bitch—or my husband, for that matter? I could take the experts' advice and call a friend for support, except R., my go-to pal, had just bailed on our drinks date—for the third time in a row. Her excuse? "I'm tired and in my pj's." Harrumph. I was tired, but I'd rally for her. Apparently, she didn't think I was worth pulling on a pair of jeans for.

"I had a friend who canceled on me several times," Dr. Orloff says. "Eventually, I told her, in a neutral tone, 'Your canceling makes me feel bad. If you don't stop, I'd rather we not make plans.' You shouldn't take the canceling personally, but you can hold people accountable for their actions."

Yet what about those times when a cancellation or a mean memo from an editor was about me? "If you practice emotional detachment, you'll be able to see when you're at fault and apologize," Dr. Orloff says. "Otherwise, what someone thinks of you is not your business. It sounds strange, but we all have the right to love or hate someone, or anything in between."

It may not have been my business, but it still really got my goat when someone bailed on our plans or ignored me. "If you change your perspective, you can change your reactions," Kreamer advises. In other words, I could choose to brush off the cancellations and snubs. "Exactly," Kreamer says. "And the more you flex that resiliency muscle, the stronger it will be."

Clearly, my resiliency muscle was flabby and weak. I resolved to build it up. I got my chance a few days later, when I saw the Bitch heading my way. Then, as the distance between us closed, I watched with amazement as she broke into a bright smile. Were my eyes playing tricks on me? No, she was, in fact, beaming. But, alas, not at me. The man a few paces ahead of me must have returned her friendly grin; I heard him say an enthusiastic "Hello." She replied in kind. Then her eyes returned to a fixed point 3 inches in front of her nose and she blew by me as usual. The shift from warm to frosty was so fast, so complete, that even I was impressed. Damn! I thought. On such a beautiful day, she puts across bitchery like a professional.

Yet instead of letting myself feel judged, this time, I viewed her snobbery as so her problem. I guess we all do what we have to do to feel better about ourselves. Apparently, ignoring plebes like me made her feel great. But it had nothing to do with me.

Over the next few weeks, I practiced emotional detachment at will. When Steve was short with me, I said, "I'm going to assume your crankiness isn't my fault and that maybe you got your period today." He laughed and apologized. My new mantra—"It's not about me"—also worked to defuse the stress of traffic and loud cell phone talkers. Whenever I flexed my new "I'm not taking it personally" muscle, I felt inner strength.

Then I got another revision note from the exacting editor, the one who had recently made snarky comments in ALL CAPS on one of my articles. Instead of feeling put upon, I tried to look at her comments more rationally. Once my mind was free of my defensive, emotional impulses, I could see that her points were actually valid. Chagrined, I made her suggested changes, and she sent a kind thank-you email. It struck me that she'd taken my resistance to her comments personally! It was a revelation.

The only problem: Now that I was thinking so objectively, I cringed to recall all my overreactions of yestermonth. To those I might have offended, I apologize. I had a bad day. My horrible behavior was not about you. Please don't take it personally.